Arthur's Blitz
by CAWHS
Summary: Arthur's experience during the London Blitz.
1. Chapter One

******Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers.**

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**Chapter One**

Arthur marched through the entrance hall of the hotel room. He held his head high and kept his back straight, determined to not allow his newest war injuries to cripple him. He ignored the elegance of the room around him. The marble floors and walls decorated with fine art and the glistening chandelier hanging above his head meant nothing to him as he furrowed his brow, deep in thought. He was currently, much to his distaste, at the hotel for a meeting with the personification of the United States of America. It was not his idea, however one political meeting led to another, and Churchill believed this last attempt to gain America's support in the war would prevail. Until now, the two nations had not seen each other since the war had begun, and Arthur was perfectly fine with keeping it that way.

As if that wasn't enough to completely irk the Brit, he learned right before his arrival that the personification of France would be joining them. How the Frenchman was able to momentarily flee France while it was under German control was beyond Arthur, seeing as how easily the man surrendered his country. A small smirk crept onto his face as he imagined the man being forced back to France by German military commanders.

Arthur reached a hallway, confirmed his whereabouts with a directional sign hanging on the marble wall, and proceeded to make his way down the hall. The flooring beneath his military boots changed from hard marble to plush, red carpet. After passing a few doors, he reached the conference room where he knew the two men he was meeting with were waiting. He took a deep breath, wincing ever so slightly as it caused a flash of pain in his ribs where he had not completely healed from his latest battle, and opened the large door.

He immediately felt the eyes of the room's occupants fall upon him. He stood at the door frame, refusing to feel self-conscious. His eyes glared in response, and his body stiffened. A heavy silence filled the air, and Arthur knew all too well who would be the one to shatter it.

"Arthur," the American said, a smile plastered on his face, "how are you?"

The Brit's glare filled with venom, all directed towards the American. He had been fighting in a war, watching his allies quickly leave him, forced to swallow his pride to fly all the way across the Atlantic Ocean to beg the American for help, and the man had the gall to sit in front him, smile, and ask him how he was?

The smile disappeared from the American's lips as he noticed the tension and anger building up in the Brit's body. The heavy silence returned, and the man could only watch Arthur struggle to keep his composure as his emotional mask cracked slightly. To the American's momentary relief, the Briton finally began to speak.

"How am I doing?" Arthur repeated, disbelief and sarcasm dripping from his every word. "I'm bloody _fantastic_, Alfred! You have no idea how amazing this past year has been. One grand, amazing thing just keeps happening after the other! You have no idea just how bloody _fantastic_ I've been."

Alfred looked down at the conference room table, unable to meet Arthur's eyes. The Briton continued to glare, causing Alfred to squirm uncomfortably in his chair.

"Look," Arthur said, reining in his annoyance, "I suspect that you've been told that this meeting would consist of me begging for your help and support in this war. I'm sure that you thought that you were merely here to humor my people and myself." Alfred opened his mouth to provide his counter-argument, but a sharp look from Arthur caused him to close it again. Arthur continued. "Well Alfred, I will have you know that you are highly mistaken. I am the British Empire. I have seen and been through much worse, and I refuse to back down and kiss your arse for help in this war."

Silence once again returned to the room. Arthur had calmed slightly, his face masking and protecting the emotions running through his being. Alfred stared at Arthur, wondering exactly when he would be able to sum up the thoughts running around in his head. The blatant and vulgar tone of Arthur's comment had surprised the American and thrown him off guard. He opened and closed his mouth several times, never deciding on exactly what he wanted to say.

"_Angleterre_, zis war 'as been very stressful on us all," France said. Alfred jumped, forgetting that the French nation was in the room. Arthur merely shifted his glare over to the Frenchman, his earlier anger returning upon seeing the man.

"What's the matter, Francis? Having trouble hosting your Nazis, are you?" Arthur spat at him. He had not forgiven the man for leaving him alone and without allies in the war. Francis merely gave Arthur a tired and knowing look. He had expected Arthur's comment, and was slightly relieved to receive it. He had not seen the Brit since France had surrendered to German control, and Francis was wondering exactly how the man was holding up. While he knew that it would take a great force to bring down the British Empire, the obvious injuries Arthur had received since their last meeting concerned the Frenchman.

"You need 'elp, _Angleterre_. Do not allow your stubbornness to blind you to zat fact," Francis replied, smiling sadly. Arthur's steel gaze studied Francis, his emotions still hidden on his face. Arthur would not allow his composure to falter. Eventually, Arthur tore his gaze away from Francis and returned his attention to Alfred. Swallowing some of his pride, he took a deep breath and addressed the American.

"My people wish for your assistance in this war. If you could aid us in any way possible, it would be greatly appreciated," Arthur said, his eyes never breaking the eye contact he held with Alfred. While it killed him to say those words, Alfred and Francis would only see those determined, emerald eyes and a face filled with the desire to win.

"Especially," Arthur continued, "seeing as how easily our allies are willing to turn their backs to us." Francis narrowed his eyes at the Brit. Arthur chose to ignore him.

"My people want to remain neutral, Arthur," Alfred replied, finding his voice again. "We don't want to get involved in European affairs, especially after the Great War." Arthur nodded in response.

"Understandable," he said.

"But I'll do what I can," Alfred finished. Arthur nodded in acknowledgement of Alfred's statement. Alfred smiled at the Briton, observing Arthur as he did. While the Brit still held onto his determined personality, the spark in his eyes was starting to die as exhaustion crept into its place. Shadows found their way underneath his eyes, and his skin was paler than usual. His unruly, blond hair was duller in color. It was obvious that Arthur was not sleeping nearly as much as he should, and the American noticed he looked thinner than usual. He wondered just how many injuries Arthur was hiding underneath his clothing.

"Then I suppose this meeting has reached its end," Arthur said. He nodded to Alfred and ignored Francis completely as he turned to leave the conference room. The Frenchman and the American watched Arthur as he left. His back remained straight and the two could feel the authority radiating from him. The two men noticed that Arthur had a slight limp that he was unable to hide, however Arthur refused to acknowledge it. After the Brit left the room, Francis turned to Alfred.

"Do what you can, _Amerique_," he said. "'e will never voice 'ow much 'e really needs your 'elp." Alfred shifted his gaze from the conference room doors where Arthur previously stood to meet Francis. He looked at the Frenchman, unsure of what to say. Francis felt the American's confusion. "I must return to France before my absence is noticed." Alfred nodded.

"Like I said, I'll do what I can, but I can't fight my people on this. I want to help, I really do, but I can't just go around doing what I want without considering my people or my boss," he said. Francis closed his eyes and allowed a small smile to take over his face. He rarely saw this side of Alfred as the spirited American unintentionally made it a habit to allow personal feelings to influence his decisions in important matters. It surprised Francis that Alfred's desire to help his former older brother was not sending the American in a raging protest to the White House to demand involvement in the war. It seemed, to the Frenchman, that the younger nation was struggling to gain a form of adult maturity after seeing his country finally heal from one of the worst wars and economic depressions in history.

"You are so young, _Amerique_," was all that he said. He then turned and left the room, leaving Alfred sitting at the conference table alone with his thoughts.

* * *

Several hours, one plane ride, and one meeting with Churchill later, and Arthur found himself wandering around the streets of London. Thoughts were reeling in his mind, taking him away from his reality. He considered the amount of work waiting for him when he returned home, and his feet refused to take him back to his estate in order to procrastinate. He knew that he could not wait much longer though, considering that he would be returning to the war front in a few days. He sighed, and his feet stopped moving him forward.

He looked around at his capital city. A small, sad smile traced his lips as he observed his people. They ran around the streets, hurrying to get their errands finished so that they could return home for the evening. Brothers, fathers, and sweethearts were missing from every family, fighting the enemy overseas, but England's people refused to allow this to bring them down. They continued their lives with their fighting spirits urging them forward, and Arthur couldn't be more proud of them.

Arthur shifted his gaze to the sky and sighed again. Dark clouds decorated the sky, and Arthur allowed another small smile to grace his lips as he gently acknowledged his city's signature weather. He pushed all thoughts of war and politics to the back of his mind as he allowed himself this moment of peace. Tension slowly released itself from his body as his usually straight posture slumped just slightly. The smile stayed on his lips as he closed his eyes. He couldn't remember the last time he felt as light as he did in that moment. Years of strain that accompanied being a country's avatar had kept unimaginable stress on his being, and moments like this rarely found their way into his life.

Then, as soon as the moment appeared, it was just as quickly taken away.

Arthur heard the sound of approaching planes. Wondering why the Royal Air Force was flying this close to the London city limit, Arthur turned his attention to the disturbing noise. His blissful expression was immediately replaced with one of shock as he tried to comprehend what was happening. A siren began to wail with warning in the distance.

The German Luftwaffe was slowly advancing on the London sky. Arthur's mouth gaped open for a moment before he snapped back to attention, his expression quickly masking his emotions. Coming to his senses, he jerked his head back to his surroundings on the ground. His people had stopped whatever they had been doing, and stared up at the sky. Some were slowly retreating back into their homes or nearby alleyways, waiting in suspense for whatever was about to unfold.

Then all hell broke loose.

Arthur felt the first bomb drop seconds after he saw the Luftwaffe. A searing pain ripped through his chest and his people's panic immediately filled his head. He soundlessly opened his mouth and stumbled slightly as his hand instinctively clutched at his chest. Civilians ran in a frenzy as they searched for family members, friends, and shelter. Arthur grit his teeth together and took in a sharp breath of air. The pain in his chest was starting to die down when a second bomb hit the ground. Another flash of pain overcame him, and he fell back against the wall of the building behind him.

The people in the streets broke out in screams of terror at the oncoming attack. Children were crying and people scurried around like disturbed insects. Arthur shook his head, trying to recollect himself after the attack on his city. However, as it had the first time, as soon as he began to regain his thoughts, another bomb fell from the sky directly onto his heart. He shut his eyes in order to stop the sudden dizzying feeling that had overcome him. He leaned against the building for support as he began to feel his knees struggle to support him. Pain ripped through his chest, and he felt a warm liquid spreading over the hand that gripped his chest. Braving the nausea that had accompanied his dizzy spell, he opened his eyes slightly to see that blood was spreading across his chest.

_His_ blood.

The Luftwaffe dropped a third bomb, and Arthur blindly fell with it. He was numbly aware of his fall, all of his attention on the pain in his chest. He could feel his blood spreading across his shirt and his wound staining the clothing further. His mind was reeling with panic, and his breath came in rugged gasps. He tried to regain control by focusing on evening out his breathing. This was proven difficult for him as another bomb hit London, and from there the Germans unleashed one bomb after the other.

He could feel the explosions of the bombs in time with the exploding pain in his chest. He had never experienced pain like this before. It was a new kind of agony that came with the new forms of weaponry. He lay on the pavement, ignored in the mass confusion of people around him. He was unable to comprehend what was happening in his surroundings as the pain continued to take over him. His body was shaking and contorting as he collapsed in on himself, causing him to fall victim to a violent coughing fit. The taste of copper filled his mouth as he continued to cough up blood.

Panic continued to dominate his mind as the citizens of London struggled to collect themselves during the unexpected attack. Arthur was unable to contain his panic with his people, and finally allowed his screams to rip themselves from his throat. Blood spattered from his mouth with his screams, and he groaned with pain. His hand never left his chest as his wound began to spread farther across and deeper into his body. He could feel himself lying in a pool of his own blood. He let out another series of screams of agony as he finally slipped into unconsciousness. He greeted it thankfully, allowing the pain to drift away as he welcomed the comforting darkness.

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**Well, there's the first chapter!**


	2. Chapter Two

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers.**

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**Chapter Two**

"ARTHUR!"

Scotland sprinted down an almost completely destroyed London street, Wales and Northern Ireland on his tail. None of them had been expecting a home front attack, and the fact that their brother's whereabouts were currently unknown had them terrified and in a rush to locate him. The Germans had left London in a post-apocalyptic state after an entire night of bombings. People were slowly revealing themselves from their hiding places as they ventured back out into the world to locate missing relatives and to survey the damage that had been caused.

After the Germans had gone, Scotland, Wales, and Northern Ireland tried to comprehend the damage bestowed upon their brother's capital. The previous night had been torture for the brothers. The only thing that each of them had been able to think about was what condition Arthur was in, and whether or not he was able to find shelter before he endured the long night of pain they knew he inevitably suffered.

Scotland continued to surge forward, wild desperation in his emerald eyes. They scanned every source of destruction and rubble for his brother, unable to focus on anything that was not Arthur's unruly, blond hair. His legs refused to stop their mad movements, and his throat continued to shout for Arthur. He barely registered his two other younger brothers, but he did know that their bodies were currently mimicking his own actions. Not one of the brothers knew how long they had been frantically running around London in search of Arthur, but none of them thought to care. All that mattered was finding him.

Then, three pairs of matching green eyes met their target at the same time. Without any hesitation, Scotland, Wales, and Northern Ireland sprinted towards their brother's limp body that was strewn across the pavement. Scotland reached Arthur first, immediately knelling to his brother's side, and began to try to awaken him from his unconscious state. Wales and Northern Ireland caught up to him a moment later, worry written on their faces as they fought to regain their breath.

The first thing they noticed was how deathly pale Arthur was. Blood was smeared across his chest and face, as well as the pavement where he had convulsed the previous night. His breathing was shallow and broken, but nevertheless there, bringing an overwhelming relief to the three brothers. Scotland continued his attempts to wake Arthur up, but knew he would be unable to do so. Wales and Northern Ireland looked at each other with concern.

"Allistor," Wales began, trying to make his words as soothing as possible as he addressed his older brother. "C'mon, now. We need to get Arthur home."

Scotland refused to show any sign that he had heard his brother, but Wales knew he had. Northern Ireland continued to shift his stare to each of his brothers, waiting for a response from Allistor. After a moment of silence, Scotland spoke.

"Look at heem, Dylan. He's waur than Ah thooght." Dylan placed a comforting hand on Scotland's shoulder, and Northern Ireland continued to stare at them, unsure of what to do. After another moment of silence, Scotland returned to his feet, gingerly picking Arthur up as he did. Once satisfied that Arthur was secure in his grasp, Allistor began to lead his brothers home.

The three brothers could only look around in shock at the destruction that the bombs had left. Craters had been created in the streets and buildings were continuing to collapse every now and then as the last of their supports left them. Some people were mourning those who had died while others were being rushed to hospitals for their injuries. The brothers passed a few fires that had failed to be attended to, and people were coming together for support and comfort as they tried to come to terms with exactly what they had experienced. As Allistor took in the scenes playing before him, Arthur began to stir in his arms, bringing him back to Scotland's full attention.

"Arthur?"

Wales and Northern Ireland immediately looked at Arthur. His eyes were beginning to open weakly, exhaustion and pain filling their expression. Allistor had stopped walking in order to inspect his brother.

"S-Scot-" Arthur immediately let out a series of violent coughs that were followed by pained whimpers. His body shuddered violently and his eyelids clenched shut from pain.

"Don't speak, Arthur," Wales said after Arthur had calmed from his fit. "You're in no state to be doing anything right now."

"Dylan's reit. Those krauts cam an' kicked yer arse lest nicht," Allistor confirmed. Arthur tried to muffle a groan as another wave of pain ran through his body. Memories of the night's events played in his mind, and he kept his eyes shut in order to protect himself from the sights of the aftermath, quickly sending him to sleep. The lack of Arthur's protests to being carried concerned Allistor, and he continued his journey with quicker and larger paces. Wales and Northern Ireland followed suit.

They arrived at Arthur's home thirty minutes later. Kirkland Manor, located just outside of London, had been spared of damage. The home was beautiful and proud, much like its master, and stood at the top of a lush hill. The old, grey stone that made up the exterior was decorated with thin lines of green ivy that had survived Arthur's countless attempts of the foliage's destruction. Of the four brothers, he was the only one who was not partial to what he referred to as the "parasite plant creeping up on his home." Rose bushes skirted the bottom of the manor, and a long, cobble-stoned driveway placed the path leading up to the home. A fountain gurgled in the front courtyard, and the sun peaked through the clouds to shine gently over the manor's grounds.

Allistor led his brothers inside, and they immediately scurried off in different directions. Allistor took Arthur to his room, Dylan hurried off to find fresh towels and warm water, and Northern Ireland rushed to get the medical kit. Dylan and Northern Ireland met Allistor in Arthur's room and the three brothers set to work. Soon after, Arthur was lying in bed, his wounds cleaned up and bandaged. While he was still pale and his breathing was not quite even, a considerable amount of color had returned to face and his breathing was no longer coming in rugged gasps. This brought a small sense of relief to his brothers, who took turns keeping an eye on him while he slept throughout the rest of the day.

* * *

Francis rushed through the defeated streets of Paris, desperately trying to make his way home. He had just learned of the events that took place in England the previous night, and he needed to contact a certain American. Nazi soldiers patrolled the streets as Parisians scurried by with their heads down to avoid eye contact. It pained Francis to see his people in this state, but he pushed it to the back of his mind as he continued towards his home.

A few minutes later, Francis found himself opening the door to his penthouse off of _Les Champs-Elysées_. He locked the door behind him, and shuffled around the penthouse, closing windows and luxurious curtains as he went. The early morning sun disappeared from his view. Once he felt a small sense of security, he took a deep breath, and locked himself into his study. There, he sat down at his desk and dialed Alfred's number into his phone.

The phone rang several times before Alfred answered, unnerving the Frenchman. He tapped his foot impatiently as his anxiety returned to him. Perspiration began to mist his forehead as he felt his body temperature increase. Though he knew that only a few seconds had passed, Francis felt time slow dramatically. When he wasn't sure how much more he could take, he heard the familiar voice on the other end of the phone line answer his call.

"Hello?" Alfred asked.

"_Amérique!_" Francis began, unable to keep calm as words began to flood uncontrollably from his mouth. "_Amérique! C'est très sérieux! C'est Angleterre. Allemagne l'a attaqué, et je ne sais pas s'il est d'accord.__Je t'ai besoin le trouver pour moi et-"_

"Wow, slow down there, Francis," Alfred said, unable to understand a word of his French. "You know that I don't speak French. What happened?"

"_Alors, je suis désole. J'ai oublié_," Francis continued. "It'z _Angleterre_, _Amérique_. Germany bombed London last night. I don't know where Art'ur iz or what state 'e iz in. I can't go over zere to find out. You need to find 'im, Alfred. You need to make sure that 'e is un'armed. Call 'iz _frères_ if you must."

Alfred froze on his side of the phone line. He hadn't heard a word after the Frenchman explained that London had been bombed. Fear took over him as concern over Arthur's well-being became his top priority. Trying his best to keep his adrenaline from peeking any higher, Alfred returned a small part of his attention to the still blabbering Francis.

"How serious was the bombing? How much damage was caused?" Alfred asked, barely noticing the small amount of panic that had crept its way into his voice.

"I do not know, Alfred. Ze German commanders will not tell me anyzing, and I draw conclusions based on ze gossip zat I 'ear from my people and what I pick up from eavesdropping on ze German commanders," Francis said. "While I know zat I am not providing many details, I am afraid of exactly what ze Germans 'ave done. Wars today no longer 'ave the restrictions or boundaries zat zey once did, and I am not sure what ze consequences are of zat. I am afraid for what 'as 'appened, _Amérique_. I am afraid for Art'ur."

Alfred allowed Francis's words to sink in before replying. A long silence stretched between the two nations, and each of them felt very old in their own ways. Pure exhaustion took over as memories from the Great War emerged themselves into their heads. They had each hoped that they would never experience those feelings of pure dread again, but they knew it was inevitable. Every nation did. While the end of the Great War brought incredible feelings of joy and respite for the Triple Entente, no one knew just how long those feelings would last. It was said by their people that it would be the war to end all wars, but the avatars knew this was not true. The threat of war always had and always would be alive somewhere in the world, no matter how much people may not want it to be. It was just a matter of time before the next war began. Although no one expected such a large scale war to erupt again so soon after the scars of the Great War began to heal, and Alfred knew that, no matter how hard he or his people tried to avoid it, their time to take part and join in the war would come. He knew that Germany was becoming too powerful and that Arthur would need his assistance, no matter how much the man would deny it. With his thoughts returning to Arthur, Alfred wondered just how much damage was done. He knew Arthur was strong, but Alfred could not prevent his worry from flooding over him. He needed to see Arthur.

"I'm going to London, Francis. I'll be in touch with you soon."

And with those words, Alfred hung up his phone and hurried off to see his president. He knew that his boss would not care for him to be anywhere near Europe during this time, determined to keep America out of the war. However, while America did not quite need to become involved in the war yet, _Alfred_ did, and no one would be able to keep him from going to check on his former mentor.

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**Yes, England's brothers have made their way into this fan fiction. I originally wasn't going to include them in this story, but they some how became involved. Oh well, what can I say? I love them all! Their names were taken from the Hetalia Fan Made Characters Wiki page, so the credit goes there. Anyway, please rate review!**


	3. Chapter Three

******Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers.**

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**Chapter Three**

Alfred gawked at the sight before him. He had never expected the proud buildings of London to be scattered like ruins throughout the equally damaged streets. Alfred stared for as long as he knew Arthur would consider rude, however this numbly registered with the American. He continued to stare out of the window of the car that had picked him up from the airport.

Immediately after his phone call with Francis, Alfred left his office to meet with his boss. The idea of Alfred flying over to England had not gone over well with President Roosevelt; however, given the circumstances, Alfred was permitted to in the end. An hour later, Alfred was on a private plane to London, where he would be escorted to Arthur's home. He was now in a government issued car as it weaved its way through whatever paths it could find. While Alfred did not know what to expect after learning of the bombing, he had certainly not expected it to be as bad as it was. It only made him more anxious to see Arthur. He continued to stare out of the car's window, noticing the shadows created by the setting sun.

The drive from London's airport to Kirkland manor was not a long one, however in the city's current state it took longer than usual. Alfred was standing in the driveway of Arthur's home twenty-five minutes later. He noticed the cars of Scotland, Wales, and Northern Ireland sitting in the driveway, and decided to knock on the door rather than using the spare key that he knew was tucked beneath the doormat.

There was short pause after he knocked, but the door was answered by Wales. Dylan regarded the American, not in the least bit surprised that he had come to check on the Englishman. They exchanged awkward greetings before Dylan led Alfred to Arthur's room, leaving the American's suitcase in the front hallway. Not a word was exchanged between the two during the walk through the house. Alfred noticed the thick tension that lulled throughout the manor. He didn't want to imagine what the Kirkland brothers went through the previous night. Finally reaching the large doors that guarded Arthur's bedroom, Dylan turned to address Alfred.

"Look, Alfred," Dylan began. The Welshman looked down at his boots and his right hand rubbed at his left elbow nervously. "I… It's just… Arthur's not in the best condition right now. I just want you to be prepared for what you might see." Alfred nodded, and Dylan quietly opened the doors.

Alfred's eyes immediately fell upon the grand bed that was the focal point of the Englishman's bedroom. The bed sheets seemed to swallow up the man occupying their space. If it were not for the shock of messy blond hair that poked its way out of the sheets, Alfred was sure he would not be able to recognize him. Never before had he seen Arthur look so _small_. Not that he would ever hurt the man's pride by telling him so.

Sitting in a chair that was placed next to the bed was Northern Ireland, his protective eyes straying from his brother over to Alfred. He nodded in acknowledgement before returning his watchful gaze back to Arthur. Scotland was leaning against a wall on the other side of the bed, his eyes also meeting the American's. A small smile formed on his lips.

"Hello thaur, Alfred. its bin a while," Allistor said.

"Hey, Allistor. Yeah, it has been a while," Alfred responded awkwardly. It felt wrong to him to be speaking so casually while in front of the hurt Arthur. Allistor sensed the uncomfortable aura that was penetrating from Alfred, so he gestured over to Arthur.

"Th' circumstances 'at brooght ye haur ur unfortunate, but it's still braw tae see ye aw th' sam. Gang aheid an' tak' a swatch at Arthur. He's bin asleep aw day. Lest nicht wasnae exactly kin' tae heem," Allistor said. Alfred gave him an empty smile. While Alfred had been raised by Arthur, Alfred had a very distant relationship with the Englishman's brothers. It wasn't that they disliked each other. In fact the few times that Alfred communicated with them had gone fairly well, they just did not spend much of their time together. This led to very awkward moments between them when Arthur was not there to be their mutual brother. The American sighed and walked over to the side of Arthur's bed.

Even through his closed eyelids, exhaustion was evident in his eyes. His entire being seemed to have embraced the escape that was sleep, however his body was anything but relaxed. His breathing was quick and shallow, and his expression was one of pain. Alfred could see the beginning of bandaging on Arthur's shoulders, causing him to wonder just how much physical injury he had received. While he was burning with curiosity to find out the answer to that question, he refrained himself from asking. He drew his eyes away from Arthur, and sighed again.

"Have a seat, Alfred," Northern Ireland said, speaking to Alfred for the first time since his arrival.

"Thanks, Cailean," Alfred replied, moving away from the bed to sit down in another chair that had been moved to the bedroom. The four nations continued to occupy the room in hushed silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Finally unable to contain his curiosity or bear the stillness any longer, Alfred shattered the silence.

"So," he began uneasily. All three conscious Kirkland brothers snapped their attention to Alfred. "What exactly happened last night?"

"'at dobber Germany is whit happened," Allistor growled. "Ah swear, those krauts nae longer hae sense ay decency, an' ur tae cowardly tae fight fairly." Dylan and Cailean furrowed their brows at Scotland's words. Their expressions clearly stated that they whole-heartedly agreed with their brother, but would not voice this opinion.

"Last evening Germany sent over his Luftwaffe," Cailean began, hesitantly, "and just dropped bomb after bomb on London and a few other major cities, as well. London received the most of it though." Northern Ireland trailed off, willing either Dylan or Allistor to continue for him.

"Arthur had a meeting with Churchill, and was out when the bombing began," continued Dylan. "He was meant to be home earlier, but he, well, didn't make it in time. The bombing continued all night, and we couldn't leave to go out and find him. As soon as the Germans left, we went to search for him. We found him crumpled up on the pavement, covered in blood." Allistor and Cailean visibly tensed, anger flaring in the Scotsman's eyes.

"Nae one kent 'at th' attack was comin'. Nae one was prepared," Allistor interjected. "Which concerns me abit tonecht. Fa knows if they'll strike again ur nae." Everyone shot a quick glance at the window. The sun was spilling deep shades of crimson and orange into the bedroom, indicating that the day was drawing to a close. Scotland remained standing tall near the window, a worried expression on his face that did not match the confidence and pride that emanated from his stance.

The stillness returned yet again to the room as each nation allowed their worried thoughts to take over their minds. Alfred, the only non-injured person in the room with a slumped posture, wondered if Germany really would attack again as they had. His thoughts were immediately interrupted by a ruffled movement next to him.

The American and the Kirkland brothers rushed to the sides of the bed as Arthur began to slowly awaken. His eyes slowly eased themselves open, and the smallest of groans rumbled from his throat. Dylan grabbed a glass of water from the bedside table and helped Arthur take a drink. Arthur gave Dylan a small, appreciative smile before closing his eyes again. Alfred and the Kirkland brothers exchanged worried glances before Cailean acted.

"A-Arthur?" Cailean called. He gently nudged Arthur's shoulder. Arthur weakly rolled his head over to face the disturbance before gently opening his eyes again. "How are you feeling?"

"Just peachy," Arthur croaked. He began to shift himself upwards, but was gently prodded back down by Allistor.

"Ack nae, ye dornt. Ye need tae rest," Allistor told him. Arthur slumped back into his pillows. His whole body throbbed. He closed his eyes again.

"What happened?" He whispered. He hated how weak he sounded, but was unable to care too much at the moment. His eyes remained closed. His brothers quickly explained the night's events to him, leaving out explicit details to explain to him when he was stronger. Arthur sighed as his memories began to return to him.

"It's ridiculous how out of hand this has become," Arthur whispered. A brief pause fell in the conversation before Arthur gained enough strength to ask his next question.

"What are you doing here, Alfred?"

Alfred wasn't sure what to tell him. All of his thoughts escaped his mind as he tried to regain himself. He didn't think that Arthur had even seen him at all. Not in the daze he was in or behind his closed eyelids.

"I heard about what happened and just needed to make sure that you were alright," he said, concluding that it was the best possible answer. The Englishman took deep, rattled breaths before continuing. However, as he moved to speak, a violent fit of coughs overcame him. He turned his face away from the worried glances that were given to him, desperately trying to avoid any more actions that he thought would make him appear feeble. After his fit had passed, he simply slumped into the pillows once more, deciding to keep his retort to himself. After taking a few delicate breaths, he cautiously croaked out another question.

"Is… Is there any news of a second attack?" Another pause hit the room before Dylan stepped up to answer.

"No one knows, Arthur," was all he said, walking around the room to turn lights on as the sun finally took the last of its light for the day. Arthur opened his mouth to continue, but instead took in a sharp breath of air. His lip trembled slightly, and his breathing quickened. His eyes burst open in alert, fear creeping into them.

"Arthur? What's wrong?" Cailean asked, concern spreading across his face. Arthur screwed his eyes shut as he tried to regain control of his breathing.

"Shit…"

And with that, Arthur began to crumple in on himself, teeth clenched in a desperate attempt to retain any hurt whimpers or groans. The muffled sound of an alarm began to sound outside of the window.

"Isnae 'at jist feckin' great? Looks loch those bastards ur back fur anither visit," Scotland growled.

"What do we do?" Alfred asked. He was on high alert with adrenaline pumping through his veins and his protective hero instincts kicked into action.

"We need to get ourselves and Arthur down to the bomb shelter," Dylan instructed. "C'mon, now." Arthur continued to jerk as bombs began to rain on England. Allistor carefully picked him up, tossing the bed sheets to the side. Alfred gawked at the Englishman's bandages. Arthur's shirt had been removed in order to treat his wounds. Large, white bandages wrapped around his torso, and smaller ones laced his arms and face. Red streaks and blotches were beginning to seep through the bandages as the wounds reopened and new ones began to appear. Arthur continued to twist and jerk in his brother's arms.

"It's alrecht, Arthur. We'll keep ye safe," Allistor soothed. Arthur did not display any signs of having heard the Scotsman as his teeth continued to hold back his screams. Dylan grabbed a large, thick blanket off of the bed, and led the group from the bedroom into the hall. He gave a brief glance at the group before leading down the hallway, down the main staircase, and to the back door. The group quickly made their way across a short stretch of yard and into the bomb shelter. Cailean shut the door behind them while Dylan struggled to wrap the still thrashing Arthur in the blanket. Allistor tightened his grip on him, and together he and the Welshman were able to secure the blanket around their brother. Alfred and Cailean stood off to the side, unsure of what to do. Outside, the siren continued to wail with the addition of the sounds of distant bombings.

The group sat on the floor of the shelter as the sounds of explosions, sirens, and Arthur's pained whimpers continued on. Allistor and Dylan kept a tight hold of Arthur's arms to keep him steady while he twitched and thrashed with each blow he received. Alfred couldn't help but wonder how much damage the Germans were causing, and how many lives would come to an end that night. He could only make assumptions based on Arthur's condition. He knew, along with every other nation, exactly how home front attacks felt and the pain the nation's avatar experienced when under attack. It was always much worse when capital cities were damaged. They are the heart of a nation. Sympathy took over Alfred as he watched Arthur struggling in front of him, and he wanted nothing more than to make Arthur's pain stop. However he knew that there was nothing that he could do.

Suddenly, Arthur stopped his violent movements. He struggled to control his breathing while Cailean slowly stood up. Sensing what his brother was about to do, Allistor barked at him.

"Dornt ye daur open 'at duir, Cailean! We dornt ken if it's safe yit." Cailean paled and nodded before backing away from the door and returning to his original seat. The peace stretched out for another moment, however the group noticed that the sirens continued to wail. Dylan and Allistor kept their hold on Arthur as he shook weakly.

Then, without warning, Arthur let out a horrifying, pain-filled scream. The roar of explosions returned with more volume than before. His body seized violently, causing his brothers to lose their hold on him. The blanket fell from his shoulders and he collapsed onto the floor, his body contracting as if he were having a seizure. Blood began to spray from his mouth with each scream and cough. Dark blood pooled from his chest at an alarming rate, and everyone in the shelter darted forward to help hold him still.

They stayed like this for several hours. Arthur continued to scream as loud as his lungs would allow, his throat growing hoarser as the air scratched it. Tears streaked down his face, completely unnoticed by him. He would gasp for breath between fits of screams and grunts of pain. His skin was boiling as a fever took over him. It was the least of his ailments, however it added to his agony and discomfort. Finally, as dawn approached, Arthur began to calm. His screaming ceased, as did his tears. His body's aggressive movements were replaced with trembles; however his breathing continued to come in rugged gasps. As the sirens finally came to end, Arthur fell completely limp. He gasped harshly before he allowed the rest of the air to leave his lungs. With that, his breathing stopped.

Everyone kept their hold on Arthur, shock and panic causing them to become paralyzed. Snapping out of his haze, Allistor shook his younger brother.

"Arthur? Arthur, wake up!" Allistor yelled. The Englishman did not respond. His fear taking over, Allistor roughly shook his brother and raised his voice. "DAMN IT, ARTHUR! DORN'T YE DAUR DIE OAN ME!"

Dylan shoved his enraged brother away from Arthur and proceeded to pump his chest with his hands, ignoring the blood that immediately stained his hands.

"C'mon, Arthur, where's your fight?" the Welshman mumbled before beginning to administer cardiopulmonary resuscitation. He prayed that he was avoiding open wounds in Arthur's chest as he continued to pump his hands. Arthur limply allowed his body to shift under Dylan's force, refusing to acknowledge his brother's hurried attempt of reviving him. This did not discourage Dylan, and he continued as Allistor, Cailean, and Alfred watched painfully from the side. After a pained minute, Arthur took a desperate gasp of air. He struggled for several seconds before finding his breath's natural rhythm. The Kirkland brothers and Alfred allowed relief to wash over them. However, while Arthur's breathing returned, he remained unconscious.

"That was awful," Alfred said, his voice shaky. Dylan stayed kneeling by Arthur, unsure of whether or not he would be needed to help should Arthur's heart decide to stop again. Allistor stared protectively at Arthur, fury towards the Germans searing from his gaze. Cailean was the only one who acknowledged Alfred. He gave the American a soft smile.

"Aye, it was awful," he said, "but Arthur'll make it through. He always does." After several more minutes, the group left the bomb shelter, relieved to find Kirkland Manor unharmed. Allistor carried Arthur back to his room, followed by Cailean and Alfred while Dylan hurried off to grab a medical kit and to throw the blood-stained blanket into the laundry bin. He was sure that it would be thrown away later, but left it there all the same. He met the others in Arthur's room, and he and Cailean began to treat their brother's wounds. Alfred excused himself from the room as he left in search for a telephone. Francis was still waiting for an update on the Englishman's condition, and Alfred knew that if he didn't get in touch with his president before news of London's recent attack did he would be in serious trouble. He decided on calling the Frenchman first, knowing that as soon as he got in touch with his boss, he would be ordered to return back to America. He knew he wasn't ready to do so.


	4. Chapter Four

******Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers.**

* * *

**Chapter Four**

"_Bonjour?"_

"Hey, Francis. It's Alfred," Alfred began, all emotion drained from his voice. He was still in shock from Arthur's attack. He had never seen his former mentor in that state before, and, as much as he wanted to do something, he found himself unable to do anything. His mind refused to comprehend and understand exactly what happened as it tried to protect Alfred from the scenes he witnessed.

"_Amérique!_ What 'as 'appened? _Tu es en Londres, non?_"

"Um, yeah. I'm in London," Alfred responded. He found that he was experiencing one of the rare moments in his life where he was at a loss for words.

"Well? 'ow iz Art'ur?" Francis asked impatiently.

"He's, um," Alfred tried. "He's been better." Alfred summed up the nights events and explained everything he knew about the first night's attack. He reassured Francis that Arthur was currently resting in bed, and that his brothers were there to care for him. He tried his best to describe the Englishman's injuries, unable to describe exactly to Francis the extremities that the attack subjected Arthur to.

The conversation between the two nations did not last long. Francis excused himself quickly after Alfred's explanation, and Alfred dismissed him gladly. He did not want to talk about the German's attack more than was necessary. He sat in a stupor before picking up the phone again to call his boss, fully aware that the time difference made it the middle of the night in his country. Somehow, he knew that the president wouldn't mind.

Alfred had expected the call to be short and expected a demanding request from the president for him to return home. Both of his expectations were met, and the American hung up the phone after the conversation was over. He bumped his way back down the hall to Arthur's room.

Dylan and Cailean had left the room during Alfred's absence, leaving Allistor half-asleep in the chair next to Arthur's bed. Alfred quietly moved across the room to check on the Englishman.

For the amount of pain that he was in, Arthur's expression was surprisingly peaceful. The bed sheets covered his bandages, but Alfred was now well-aware of the injuries hidden beneath them. The American frowned as he again noticed how pale Arthur was, and how unsettled his breathing continued to be. He noticed that a wet rag had been placed on Arthur's forehead, signaling that his fever must have increased. He turned his attention to Allistor, who was fighting off sleep in one of the chairs next to Arthur's bed.

"Allistor, is there anything that I can do?" he asked. Scotland smiled sadly at Alfred before slowly shaking his head.

"Nae," he replied. He opened his mouth as if to say something else, but quickly shut it again. Alfred knew he was trying to hold back a comment about Alfred's loyalty in the war, deciding to respond differently. Allistor knew that it wasn't Alfred who needed lecturing about that subject.

"Yoo're boss wants ye heam, doesnae he?" Alfred hesitated before nodding.

"Yeah, he does." Alfred looked back at Arthur. He clenched his fists at the unfairness of his situation. How could he be so easily ordered back to America while his former guardian was so weak?

"Go," Allistor told him. Alfred looked up to meet his gaze. "We can look efter heem. If he needs anythin', we'll lit ye ken."

Alfred wanted to protest, but knew that it would be pointless. He sighed in defeat before nodding in response. Giving one last look to Arthur, he left the room and began his trip back home.

Weeks had passed since the start of what had become known as the Blitz. Alfred continued to keep in contact with Arthur's brothers. They gave the American updates on Arthur's condition and the war. Much to all of their dismay, the bombings continued and Arthur's condition proceeded to worsen.

The merciless attacks on England continuously sent Alfred into fits of anger and distress. He wanted desperately to come to Arthur's defense and attack Germany, but was unable to do so as his people held onto the desire to remain neutral. _How can they not want to help?_ Alfred would think. _How can they keep going along with their daily lives when Arthur's being mutilated?_ The fact that he could do nothing for his former older brother infuriated Alfred to no end. What kept Alfred from completely ignoring the wishes of his people and his president was the fact that he knew his eventual participation in the war was inevitable. He knew that his time was coming, and in his mind it couldn't come soon enough.

* * *

Dylan and Allistor shuffled around the kitchen. Allistor was carefully preparing a breakfast dish for Arthur while Dylan cleaned the dishes that he, Allistor, and Cailean used earlier for their own breakfast. While it was well past the time that Arthur believed one should be sleeping, his brothers knew better than to wake him. His nights were long and painful, and he needed every bit of sleep that he could acquire. The Kirkland brothers had settled into a new daily routine that did not please them, but that they would continue to live by until the Blitz came to an end. When that would be none of the brothers could say.

"Sae," Allistor began, throwing a brief side-glance to Dylan, "dae ye ken whaur Cailean went aff tae? Ah huvnae seen heem since breakfast." Allistor's words were quiet and used to serve as a conversation starter rather than to fulfill curiosity. Cailean usually spent his mornings sitting quietly beside Arthur. The nights were rough on all of the brothers, and Cailean had started the habit of isolating himself with Arthur. Dylan and Allistor never questioned him about this, knowing that it was his own way of dealing with the situation that they were faced with. Dylan knew perfectly well that Allistor knew of Cailean's whereabouts, but humored him nonetheless.

"He's probably upstairs with Arthur," he answered softly. He kept his eyes glued to the dish he was washing. It was the last dish that needed cleaning, and he continued to lather it in soap well after the dirt had gone. Unsure of what he would do after he completed the dishes, Dylan felt stuck in his repetitive actions. Allistor noticed that Dylan had washed the dish about five times already, but decided against saying anything of it. He simply sighed and checked over the meal that he had made for Arthur. When he decided that it was up to his standards, he turned back to Dylan.

"It's dain. Ye comin'?" he asked. Dylan froze, dish and towel still in hand. He stared at the dish for a minute before answering his brother with a small nod of his head. He quickly ran a dry towel over the plate before setting it down neatly with the others. Allistor grabbed the tray of food from the counter top, and he and Dylan made their way to Arthur's room. It went without speaking that all of the brothers agreed that Arthur was passed the point of getting out of bed and moving about the house, so they took turns bringing meals and anything else he may need to him in his bedroom.

When they opened the doors to the bedroom they found Cailean quietly speaking with a half-conscious Arthur. Both turned their heads towards the doors to see Allistor and Dylan enter the room. They all smiled to each other in greeting.

"Good to see you up, Arthur," Dylan said, trying to put any emotion besides relief into his voice. He was quite sure that he failed when he saw Arthur smile weakly at him. Allistor jumped into the conversation to keep it from heading into dangerous areas.

"We brooght ye breakfast," he said walking across the room with the tray of food. It was then his turn to receive the weak smile from Arthur.

"Thank you, Allistor," he said. Allistor moved to set the tray down on the bed, but Arthur reached out a hand to stop him. "I'll eat it later. I'm not hungry at the moment."

"Arthur," Allistor sighed. Arthur usually needed help eating these days. It annoyed him beyond belief, and generally resulted in half-eaten and skipped meals. The Englishman did everything in his power to preserve what little self-image he felt he had, much to his brother's annoyance. _Sae it's gonnae be one ay those meals, is it noo?_ Allistor thought.

"Ye hae tae eat, Arthur," he said. Arthur narrowed his half-open eyelids as much as he could, mustering as much danger as he could into his eyes. His brothers seemed unfazed by his attempts.

"He's right, Arthur," Dylan began. "You need all the strength you can get." Arthur turned his gaze away from his brothers and glowered at his bed sheets. When he saw that his brother continued to ignore the food in defiance, Cailean stepped in.

"Please, Arthur? Just… please?" Arthur studied Cailean, but still didn't show any signs of moving.

"Arthur, thes is ridiculous. Jist eat th' damn food!" Allistor barked, his annoyance with Arthur clear in his voice.

"What's the point, Allistor?" Arthur snapped suddenly. However he jerked his head to face Allistor too quickly, and was momentarily dazed before he was able to continue. Once the room stopped spinning, he faced the Scotsman. Anger fueled his words. "What's the point? What does it matter if I get any strength from this meal? Germany keeps attacking, and I keep getting weaker. I cannot be saved by simply eating breakfast! Why don't any of you understand that?"

Three pairs of shocked, green eyes starred at Arthur. None of them had heard Arthur speak anything but whispers and croaks for the past several weeks. It was strange for them to hear him speaking so loudly, even if his voice was still hoarse. Dylan was the first to respond.

"Look, Arthur, we understand that-"

"I DON'T THINK THAT YOU DO!" Arthur yelled. "None of you will accept what is going to happen. All three of you are refusing to believe it! It's time for us to stop playing this damn charade and accept the situation that we are faced with. I am going to _die_! And I'll be damned if I lose anymore of my dignity and self-respect before Germany finishes me off. If I can't feed myself then I refuse to have others feed me. I am not a child! I refuse to be remembered as their helpless victim!"

Arthur's body shook in the aftermath of his outburst. He wanted nothing more than to fall back into his pillows and rest, but he refused to do so. He sat up straight and did his best to hide his shaking and to steady his breathing. His eyes glared with determination. Each of his brothers was speechless. Not once had anyone voiced the possibility of Arthur's death. Each of the Kirkland brothers refused to even accept that as an option. He couldn't die. He was their brother. They wouldn't let him die. However they all secretly feared that it would be the end result. Germany seemed to be just as stubborn as Arthur. Germany kept bombing and Arthur kept refusing to surrender, and in this sick game there could only be one winner. What gave the brothers hope was Arthur's people. None of his citizens had given up, refusing to back down to the Germans. Surely Arthur would stay alive and defiant as long as his citizens did.

"Arthur," Allistor said cautiously, running a hand through his messy, red hair, "yoo're nae gonnae die. We willnae lit ye." Arthur sighed, finally allowing his fatigue to show. The determination in his eyes melted away, and what the brothers saw in them terrified them beyond belief. Defeat.

"I can't keep doing this, Allistor. I just can't. I'm just so… so _exhausted_."

And with that, he slumped back into his pillows and shut his eyes. His outburst had taken the little energy he had from him. After a few still moments, he allowed blissful sleep to take him. Allistor sighed and set the tray of food on Arthur's nightstand. He looked at Dylan and Cailean. They each had looks that pained Allistor to see. He had never seen them look so scared and worried. He gave them a reassuring look.

"He'll be alrecht, ye tois. Dornt ye worry," he said.

"He's given up, Allistor," Cailean said. "Arthur _never_ gives up."

"He's just frustrated," Dylan said. "He's exhausted and he knows that his only options are to endure this or to surrender. Neither option is desirable, and he's sick of these damn bombings every night. We all are. He hasn't given up. He's just exhausted and frustrated, is all."

With Dylan's words, the Kirkland brothers began to feel a new sense of hope. Arthur would be alright because he was Arthur. They knew that he would refuse to give up to Germany and would make it through to see the end of the Blitz. Until then, they would be there to help him. When he woke up, Allistor would reassure him that they did not see him as weak, and would help him eat his meal. More likely than not they would spend the night in the bomb shelter and help Arthur through his nightly torture. They would then bring him back to his bed in the morning, and try to move on with the day as if nothing had happened. And when the Blitz was over, they would celebrate and continue fighting in the war until they won because that's what they did. They were the Kirkland brothers and refused to be defeated. Especially Arthur.


	5. Chapter Five

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers.**

* * *

**Chapter Five**

Cailean sprinted through the front door of Kirkland Manor after spending the day wandering around in the city. During his visit, he discovered news that had immediately sent him off for home. He needed to find his brothers. He flew up the main staircase and wound his way around the halls on the second floor. He passed by the library and only just saw Dylan in time to stop.

"Cailean, why are running in the house?" Dylan asked, slightly annoyed at his brother's display of improper behavior.

"Dylan! Where's Allistor?" Cailean said, ignoring his brother's scowl and trying to catch his breath.

"He's with Arthur. Why?" Dylan asked.

"Follow me!" Cailean demanded. When Dylan raised an eyebrow at him in response, Cailean rolled his eyes. "_Quickly!_"

Dylan sighed and set his book down on a table. He then joined Cailean in the hallway.

"Alright, now what is it?" But he barely had time to ask before Cailean began running down the hall again. Dylan hurried after him and caught up to Cailean just as he was slamming Arthur's door open.

"Oi! Cailean! Keep it down!" Dylan hissed. Cailean just smiled at him and Dylan entered the room behind him. Arthur and Allistor looked at them, surprised by their sudden appearance.

"It's over!" Cailean announced. Dylan, Allistor, and Arthur just stared at him with blank expressions. Cailean moaned in irritation at their clear confusion. "The Blitz! It's over!"

The three brothers stared at Cailean in shock and amazement.

"W-what?" Arthur asked, trying to keep his hope and delight contained in case he had heard his brother incorrectly.

"Where did you hear about this?" Dylan asked in order to make sure Cailean was not spreading misleading rumors.

"Everyone's talking about it in London! Apparently Russia's been giving Germany some trouble, so they're directing their Luftwaffe back over to home grounds in order to provide more protection on their eastern border." Cailean explained, smiling broadly. He directed the smile towards Arthur. "It's over, Arthur! You're going to be alright!"

Dylan and Allistor looked over at Arthur in the bed. The Englishman stared at Cailean in shock as his mind processed the information thrown at him. Once it was registered, he allowed a large smile to take over his face.

"Oh my God," he whispered. He then raised his voice triumphantly. "It's over! They're gone!" Allistor and Dylan joined in their brothers celebrations. It was the first time that any of them had smiled in several months.

* * *

Arthur walked through the streets of the rebuilding London. Several weeks had passed since the end of the Blitz, and Arthur's injuries had finally, for the most part, healed. Arthur was sure he was on death's doorstep, but with the end of Blitz came the end of further injury and wounds being reopened. With this, he was finally able to begin to heal, and, with his being a nation, he was able to heal within a few weeks time. He still received injuries due to the fact that the war continued, however the majority of his wounds had left him as the Germans had.

The news of the Blitz's end was celebrated greatly among Arthur and his brothers. Alfred and Francis had been called and notified as well, bringing them great relief. However the first time that Arthur laid eyes on his beloved capital, his heart shattered all over again. Everywhere he looked he saw collapsed buildings lying dead in the crater infested streets. Fires littered a few areas as people tried to extinguish them. People mourned for the dead and others tried to collect themselves and help to rebuild the city. Arthur felt his peoples' sorrows, but he also felt incredibly proud of them. His people were determined and refused to run in the face of danger. While Germany came and tried to force them to surrender, they refused to crumple beneath their enemy. Instead, they repaired the damage and carried on with their lives.

Arthur stood and observed his people. He smiled at them softly, allowing his pride to overwhelm him. They had survived the Blitz, and would continue to fight in the war. _And we will win_, Arthur thought to himself. _We will win._

**End**

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**It's finished! I loved writing this, and I hope that you enjoyed reading it. Please rate and review. Any suggestions on what I can improve on in the future are also greatly appreciated! Thank you for reading my story!**_  
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